


lament for the condemned

by GoddessOfTheVoid



Series: we killed love in a time of war [2]
Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Established Relationship, Flashbacks, Forbidden Love, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Period-Typical Homophobia, Post-Canon, Post-Dunkirk Evacuation, Reunions, Secret Relationship, Tragedy, World War II
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-31
Updated: 2020-12-31
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:48:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28452672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoddessOfTheVoid/pseuds/GoddessOfTheVoid
Summary: Three years after the Dunkirk evacuation changed his life for the worse, Lt. Collins receives a shocking message, forcing him to navigate this newfound hope through the difficulties of the war.
Relationships: Collins/Farrier (Dunkirk)
Series: we killed love in a time of war [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/908919
Kudos: 6





	lament for the condemned

**Author's Note:**

> so, three years ago I watched the movie, first one time, then another time, and another and another. and i got inspired to write two stories for it. one was uploaded 3 years ago, this one would become one of my longest wips. when I started writing this story I assumed it would be nothing but a short one-shot. instead, it grew and grew, reaching a word count I have never written before. then real life happened and it sat unfinished on my harddrive for many, many months. my original plan was to post this as a complete one-shot for you to read at once, but given the fact that this story has reached 34k and is not yet complete, I've decided to upload it in chapters until it is finished.
> 
> the title and verse in the beginning (and the one that will eventually end this story) are taken from the lord of the lost song "lament for the condemned"
> 
> for the purpose of this story I had to give them first names so Farrier's is William and Collins is Jack.
> 
> I don't even know if anyone is still active in this fandom but since writing this fic meant so much to me I still wan to share it. and what better time would be the end of this shitshow year of 2020. I hope you have been healthy, I hope you have been safe, and I hope you might find a bit of joy in reading this story. happy new year <3 
> 
> English is not my first language so please be kind, should you find any mistakes.

_they let me hold you, but you're not there_

_they've dimmed the light inside your mind_

_that hallowed soul is elsewhere_

_I taste the cold truth, tears in your hair_

_unrecognized, my spirit dies_

_I'll make them pay my dear, I swear_

**_January 1943_ **

In the beginning, there was silence. 

A calming emptiness. Devoid of any emotion and feelings.

It was numbing, comforting even, just like a warm blanket on a cold day.  
  
He was drifting. Barely existing in this void that had become his life.

Days. Weeks. Months. Years. Passing without even a notice.

He did not care. Couldn’t bring himself to do it.

He did not want to fight the emptiness. Why would he? It was soothing, even peaceful. Why would he want to trade it for the pain that awaited once he rejected it?

There was no purpose.

No other choice but to stay in the soothing embrace of the nothingness.

Until it changed. 

Until something else penetrated the heavy fog around him. 

Until he felt something he hadn’t felt properly for years. 

Fear. 

Icy cold panic. 

Dark and unrelenting. Tightening his chest and making it seemingly impossible to breathe, filling his lungs with despair.

He nearly felt like drowning. 

Again.

Only this time there was no water forcing itself into his lungs. 

Instead, it was anxiety. 

A thick and heavy darkness, just waiting to pull him under, wishing to rip him from the emptiness and claim him for itself. It was like a steel corset, twisting itself around his ribs, impossibly tight, choking the air right out of him while at the same time not even allowing him to gasp for a new breath.

He did not want this. 

He wanted the emptiness back. 

A comfort he had gotten so used to.

Whatever this was it was perhaps not even worth it. 

Nothing was worth it. Not anymore.

"If you are ready Lt. Collins?“, the sudden voice dragged him out of the depths of his mind and brought him back to reality.

Was he ready? Perhaps not. 

Did it matter? It did not.

He had to face this, to calm the screaming inside his brain. Just a few more minutes and he would be able to slip back into nothingness. Something a part of him looked much forward to.

Taking a deep breath he nodded. As if he had any other choice now that he’d decided to come.

There was no turning back now, even though part of him just wanted to run out. To leave and get as far away from this place as possible.

_No. Stop it!_

This was the emptiness talking. 

It wanted him to give in, to protect himself from any pain that could wait for him beyond those locked doors. It wanted him to go back to the safety of the numbness he’d been feeling for so long. But he would not let it take control of him. He would be strong. He had to be strong. After all this was not the time to show weakness.

Had he not been waiting for this moment for such a long time? Almost three years of uncertainty, slowly but steadily breaking him, dragging him just deeper and deeper into the comfort the emptiness was offering him.And yet the only thing worse than what was waiting for him behind that door was never knowing. Never getting an answer. Never getting closure. Whatever that might look like.

No. 

He needed to be strong. 

He needed to see this. 

Whatever it was. There was no other way. No other option to calm the raging sea inside his mind.

_Don’t get your hopes up, it could still be someone else_ , he reminded himself.

Why else would they want him to try and identify this man?

They were not sure themselves.

There was no reason for him to get his hopes up. And yet this tiny traitorous part of his heart wished they would be right with their assumption as to who would be waiting for him behind those doors.

If there was one thing he had been certain of the past years it was that he never expected it to see Farrier alive again. Not after he was first reported missing in action and then presumed dead more than two years ago. Truth be told, he was not even sure that they had found the right man now. There was too much doubt, too much uncertainty. So many men went missing, and probably just as many records disappeared with them. 

It would be foolish of him to have too much hope. If Farrier was alive, if he was truly the man the hospital called him to see, then why did he never write him personally or leave some sort of note to tell him he was alive?

No, the Farrier he knew would never let him worry and live in fear and anguish for such a long time. It was most likely they had found the wrong person indeed. But still he needed to confirm it. He still needed to see it for himself, with his very own eyes. What he needed was to get rid of the uncertainty that would otherwise torment him for the rest of his life. 

Though he did not know what would hurt him more; if it was in fact the wrong person or if they had found him, but Farrier had not even cared to notify him that he was still alive.

Taking a deep breath he followed the doctor into the room, not wanting to delay the inevitable any longer. The sooner he got this over with, the sooner he would have his answer. And the peace of mind that came with it. Whether it was positive or negative.

There was a man. 

All alone in the small room. 

He could see him laying on the bed, thin and somewhat even fragile. Though perhaps the fact that he was sleeping magnified this effect. That unknown man seemed even thinner than he was and his own weight has been reduced to an almost unhealthy number during the past years. 

The hair color seemed to fit, though that was not exactly something to be excited about. Nor was it really helpful since it was a color so common he was sure that many of the men they found shared the exact same one. The length was also a surprise. He’d known Farrier only with short hair, much to his dismay, as he always thought he would have looked great with longer hair. But Farrier had always put him off with the promise that he would maybe grow it out when the war was over.

_That way you have something to look forward to_ , he had said. 

The beard was also a surprise, long and unkempt. 

He nearly wanted to tell the doctor right away that they really had the wrong man. It was impossible that this man was _his_ Farrier. He looked nothing like the man he remembered, nothing like the man he had loved for so many years.

"Feel free to come closer Lieutenant and take a better look.“ The doctor beckoned.

"I don’t think that will be necessary, I’m fairly certain that you don’t have the right person. Also— he— he is too old.“, he finally voiced the thought that bothered him most as he looked at the man.

"Excuse me?“

"That man,” he said, pointing at the sleeping figure, “he does not have the right age.“

Farrier would turn just thirty in a few months. The unknown man instead looked as if he was steadily approaching forty or was perhaps even older. In any case was nowhere near the right age. He could not tell it certainly of course, but he was sure he was too old. 

No this was wrong. 

_Wrong. Wrong. Wrong._

All of it.

He needed to leave. 

Right now. 

Before he embarrassed himself by bursting into tears simply for having naively hoped that this would be his lover and now having to deal with the disappointment that he was not.

"You will be surprised how many of the people that come here say that, and I know it must be hard but many years have passed since you’ve last seen him I assume and almost none of the men look like they were remembered by their relatives and comrades anymore.“, the doctor explained, "please, just come closer for a moment. I need to show you something.“

Ignoring his instinct to run away he obeyed and stepped closer to the bed. He kept his gaze averted, could not bring himself to look at the face of the man, knowing very well how much pain it would bring. He had already resigned himself with the fact that this was someone else. There was no need to continue this torture. He would look at whatever the doctor wanted him to look at and leave as quickly as he could. Preferably before it ended it a breakdown that would send him straight to the nearest asylum.

How foolish he was to hope that this would be easy. 

_That’s what you get for being so naive. That’s what you get for hoping._

He had already imagined himself walking into the room and Farrier would be there to greet him and he would get him back. As happy and loving as he had been before. 

How foolish.

Did he imagine himself as Cinderella? Walking in and getting a happy ending with his prince charming? What a stupid fool he was. Fairytales did not exist in war times.

"Could you take a look at those for a moment?“, the doctor had reached out to grab the dog tags which hung around the man’s neck. He shrugged before he took them out of the doctor’s hand. He did not really see the sense in doing it, but he also did not want to be rude. He would take a quick look to humor the doctor and then make his excuses and leave.

The tags were tattered, the letters barely readable. And yet he could make out a name. _Farrier, William_. There it was. Dark letters, engraved in silver metal. The tag was clearly worn out, but the words were still readable. And on the second tag, which was somehow even more worn out than the first one, he could make out his own name.

_No._

This was impossible. The man wore the right tags. There had to be another explanation for all of this. Perhaps another soldier had found Farrier’s dead body and stole the tags in a desperate attempt to save himself? That would make sense since he doubted Farrier would leave the tags behind somewhere while he was still alive. Not with the hidden meaning behind them. He had to be dead and this man had taken them. For whatever reasoning. There could be no other explanation.

“Look at him, Lieutenant. Do you recognize him?” The doctor pressed on.

_Stop it!_

He wanted to yell at him. 

_Stop pushing me! I don’t want this!_

And yet a part of him knew that the doctor was right.

He needed to do this, to look at the man’s face.

Up close and in detail. 

He knew it. There was no sense in making any excuses not to. It was the only way to know for certain. Yet he could not do it. There was something that kept restraining him from doing it. He could not remove his gaze from the dog tags. No matter how much he told himself to look up. 

His fears were the cause. Most likely. Certainly. 

In the end, he was just afraid, perhaps now even more than he was before. 

Maybe he had gotten used to the uncertainty. After all, it was a part of him for such a long time. It was comforting in its own way.

No.

He could not let the fear win. Not when he was this close to getting an answer.

He needed to look. He needed to know. No matter how it turned out.

_Stop being such a fucking coward. Just look at him. Come on. Don’t be such a wimp. It can’t be that difficult._

He tore his gaze away from the tags and looked up, right into the face of the sleeping man as lay on the pillow. For the first time since he had entered the room he looked at him, saw for real and not just the blurry picture from a few feet away. Not only a fleeting gaze but actually seeing him, with all his features. 

The hair might be longer, the cheeks sunken in and the beard hiding most of his face but now, up close, he could still recognize him. The doctor had been right.

It _was_ Farrier. 

_His Farrier._

It was not a dream, not a cruel nightmare he would wake up from and find himself back in lonely solitude. 

It was him. He had him back. Finally. After all those years.

He stumbled, overcome by emotion and grabbed the rail of the bed to steady himself.

"I assume now you understand now why I was insisting for you to take a closer look.“, the doctor said, his voice gentle as if he was used to talking to the people in this way.

He could only nod in response. There was no strength left for anything else.

"Though I must say it was very interesting to find two different kind tags on one person. Might I ask how he acquired yours?“

Of course, that was the first question. And he could not even be mad about it. It was only curiosity after all. Of course it was. It was not like this was a common situation. He doubted that a lot of soldiers would exchange their tags or keep the tags of another. 

Either way, he owed the doctor some sort of explanation, even if he would never tell him the exact truth. He rather hoped his answer would divert him as far away as possible from reality. A distraction so he would not start to question why exactly this uncommon exchange had happened.

"We were flying partners, since we started training, that was before the war. And we are friends,very good friends, almost like— brothers.“, it was interesting how much it hurt to say that word, to downplay their relationship and the feelings they shared for each other. "We both have no family left, which is why we decided to exchange our tags. To make sure that that the other would get notified, you know, in the case that something happens to one of us.“

"I must say this sounds like a quite unusual but still very smart decision in your case. We had trouble locating someone to come here and see him and if it weren’t for your name on the second tag we wouldn’t have had anyone else to contact,” the doctor nodded solemnly. “There are far too many men who don’t get claimed. And especially in his case, it would be a shame.“

If the doctor had any suspicions about the true nature of their relationship he did not voice them and he was thankful for that. Truth be told, he couldn’t care less what the man was thinking or not, as long as he kept it to himself. There was no desire in him to know what the doctor assumed. Collins doubted he would waste too much time thinking about what he said or what kind of relationship they had. After all there were so many more patients to worry about, so many problems to fix. It would not matter to a doctor what two random pilots decided to do with their dog tags. Blissful ignorance was a true blessing indeed.

"Wait, what do you mean in his case?“ He asked once his brain finally had the time to process the last sentence he had heard. Wasn’t it always sad when injured soldiers came home and there was no family left? What was so special about Farrier? Wasn’t he just one of the many injured men in this hospital?

The doctor was just about to answer when a rustling noise interrupted them. He looked down and found himself staring into a pair of very familiar blue-green eyes. And now he definitely felt ashamed for even thinking that this was not Farrier earlier because those eyes he would never forget.

"Will! You are awake! Oh my God. I… I thought you were dead. It’s been so many years,“ he started rambling so quickly in his shock that he didn’t even notice the lack of a response. 

He waited.

For a bit.

His gaze fixed on Farrier as he wanted to see something. Anything. A small reaction of recognition. 

There was nothing. 

No response, no movement.

Farrier's eyes were open, but they were unfocused and glassy, staring into the distance. It was almost as if he didn’t know where he was and who was standing beside him. There was a strange emptiness to them, and he felt like he was staring right into a deep, dark abyss.

“Will?“ He tried again. Again no response.

This was wrong. 

So very wrong. 

He did not understand what was happening. 

Why was Farrier not reacting? Wasn’t he able to hear him? Maybe his hearing had been damaged.From the bombs or gunshots.

But no. It didn’t make sense. After all, he could still see him. Standing by his bed. So he would know he was here. Or did he turn blind as well? 

Perhaps he was injured and it had turned him deaf and blind. It was a possibility but still, wouldn’t the doctor have mentioned it? Or did he? He could not remember. 

Did Farrier not recognize him? Or maybe he did and didn’t want him to be here? Whatever it was, it did not matter. The only thing that mattered was how much it hurt. His initial relief had turned into a stabbing pain that was quickly spreading in his chest.

Sheer panic trying to claw itself out of the locked cavity inside him. All of a sudden his uniform felt too tight and he wanted nothing more than to rip it apart for some relief.

“Lieutenant! Lieutenant!“

It was nearly embarrassing how long it took for him to realize the doctor was actually talking to him.

"E—excuse me, what?“ Was all that he managed to squeeze out.

"As I was just about to say - before Lt. Farrier decided to wake up - his case is somewhat of a special one. You have noticed by now that he is not responsive, despite being obviously awake and judging by your reaction I assume no one has exactly told you about how he was found?“

"No. I just received the information that a man, who could perhaps be Farrier, was found with your request to come to this hospital and possibly identify him“ he tried to keep his annoyance as hidden as possible, because the last thing he wanted was to offend the doctor, but it was probably still very noticeable. 

That doctor definitely did not know how to get to the point. All he wanted to know what was wrong with Farrier. Right now. Instead he was asked stupid questions that could also be dealt with at a later point.

"Very well. I don’t know the exact details about how exactly he was found, that was classified I fear. But I was told that several weeks ago British Intelligence discovered him during an operation they did in Germany. Lt. Farrier was discovered unconscious and severely wounded in a place that seemed to have been abandoned only a short while before they found it. They recognized him as a British prisoner of war and arranged for him to be transported back here. Unfortunately, due to the severity of his physical injuries, it took him a long while to regain consciousness, or at least what you would define as proper consciousness. During the trip and for the beginning of his stay here he was treated with morphine to dull the pain while he was healing. Unfortunately, this made us fail to realize the lack of response from the beginning as we assumed it was only a side effect of the medication.“

Weeks. They had found him weeks ago. Perhaps even months. And he had been only notified now. How could they have not told him earlier? Perhaps his injuries were so severe they didn’t think he would make it? That would have been the only reason he could think of. What else could there be? 

“What— what are his injuries?“

He needed to know. Everything. No matter how painful it would be to hear all the details.

"Based on the injuries we treated — which consisted mostly extensive cuts and burns, next to several bruises and broken bones — we can assume that Lt. Farrier has been tortured, most certainly for a long period of time as we found many injuries that have already healed a long time ago. Some better and some for worse as it’s the case with many soldiers, I fear. Since he is not responsive we cannot exactly say what they did to him. Many of the injuries that were inflicted upon him would had already healed long before he was discovered, but there was severe fresh trauma. They tortured him badly but professionally, we have found definitive traces of medical assistance. Whatever they did to him, they wanted him to suffer but not to die.“

"No they wouldn’t, wouldn’t they,” he answered bitterly, "not while he was still of some use for them.“

Even though he had already assumed that Farrier would have been tortured — why else would they even take him as a prisoner instead of simply executing him — hearing the extent of his injuries from the doctor felt like a glowing blade stabbed directly into his heart. If there was one thing he never wanted to imagine it was the thought of his lover getting tortured for several years. Especially while he was safe and did nothing to save him.

_You should have known. You should have done something. Look at you, being all cozy and safe at home while the person you claim to love more than your life went through such unimaginable pain. You should have known! But you did not know. You could not know. He was declared dead. There was nothing you could have done._

The voice inside his head spoke the truth. He knew that he was helpless in the whole situation. That he was not to blame. But it was easier said than done.

"What we assume happened to him was that the torture was so extensive and over such a long period of time that Lt. Farrier has somehow retreated inside his mind, locked himself in it as a way to protect himself and somehow survive the torture that was inflicted on him without going insane.”, the doctor explained and he wondered how he was able to talk about such unimaginable horror with a calm and collected voice. It was as if that man did not even care. Well he probably did not. What was one broken soldier to the rest of the several thousand men he must have tended to before?

“Unfortunately we don’t know a lot of it as there are not many cases like this.”, the doctor continued with his monologue, “But to name something positive, by now, fortunately, most of his physical injuries have healed so we can work on the psychological damage that happened to him. As you can assume we’ll try our best to get him to respond to anything happening around him again. One way that was suggested to treat patients in such a catatonic state is to bring family or a wife to talk to the patient as the familiarity of a close person sometimes makes them react. We could find no record of any living relatives or an existing marriage. You seem to be the only person we could find who can fit that role, so I must ask you if you would be willing to assist us? Of course you don’t have to, if you are not comfortable with it.“

"No— I mean— yes of course! I will help you. There is no family or wife. And most of the men that served with him together are gone.“

“Very well. But I must warn you, there will most certainly not be immediate results. We cannot know if there would be any results at all. The worst case will be that he will remain unresponsive and catatonic for the rest of his life. Do you understand?“

"I do. And I don’t mind. I promise I will do my best to help you in any way possible.“

"That is very kind of you, Lieutenant. Not everyone would react in that way. Especially when it’snot family but only a fellow soldier.“

He almost wanted to scream at the doctor for his skeptic question, even though he knew the man was right. It was not common for a man to do such a selfless thing. Of course, it would be questioned. It was not like it was something personal. Still, he couldn’t help but feel angry about it.

"I don’t have any family left, doctor. Neither have I. He is the closest thing to it that I have. We might not be related by blood but it doesn’t matter to me. I see Lt. Farrier as my brother, my family. And nothing would make me happier than to see him recover fully. I assure you I will do whatever is necessary to help him.“

"I see.“, the doctor said.

_I don’t think you do_ , he wanted to scream at him. 

Yet he kept his composure and refrained of doing so, if only barely. After all it was in his own best interest that the doctor did not question the exact nature of their relationship, that he just accepted whatever he told him. Not that any of it was a lie. Of course, it was not. They were like family. But also so much more. A very important part omitted on purpose. It almost hurt to tell this lie. 

No, he was not lying. He was protecting himself. And Farrier. Their exact relationship had to remain a secret. Forever. Yet why did the lie taste like ash on his tongue then?

"Could you— would you mind giving us some privacy, doctor?“

"Of course, take your time, Lieutenant. I will let the nurses know not to disturb you. Again I would like to thank you for coming and agreeing to help. I wish you a good day, Lieutenant,“ the doctor said and he left the room. 

Just in time.

"Oh Will…“, he sobbed as the reality of what the doctor's words meant sunk in. 

His chest tightened in pain and his legs nearly gave out as the shock finally took hold of his body and his carefully maintained composure crumbled. He managed it to sit at the edge of the bed as he buried his face in his hands and tried to take a few deep breaths. 

Then, not caring anymore, he threw his arms around Farriers’ neck and hugged him hard, feeling his body against his own for the first time in years. It was so thin, too thin. He could feel the bones sticking out and more scars than he remembered. Tears ran down his face and into Farriers’ hair as he buried his face against it, letting all the feelings out that he had bottled up for so long.

For nearly three long years.

He was overwhelmed. It was all too much. He went from having a tiny bit of hope to having no hope only to have it brought back by the doctor again for the sole purpose of being destroyed again. He was not even sure what he was supposed to feel right now. 

Relief perhaps. 

After all he had Farrier back. He was not dead but still alive. Wasn’t this what he had been hoping for so many long years. No more uncertainty. Now he knew. It was not dead or alive anymore. He got right what he wished for. He was alive after all. So why wasn’t he happy? There it was again. The taunting voice in the back of his head, mean and bitter.

There was the _doctor_. 

Oh that damned man, mocking him with the hope of reuniting him with his love only to break his heart once more my showing him nothing more than this empty shell of a man. And for talking to him that overbearing voice. As if it was not already horror enough to see Farrier like this.

Perhaps it was _hope_ , instead. 

That tiny tricky flicker of emotion, always coming somehow back to life even after he had thought it long gone. It was resilient, etched somewhere deep inside of him. And no matter how much he wished it gone some times it was still there. It stayed always there, tormenting him with its sheer existence. How useless it was. It brought nothing but pain. And yet there was no way to get rid of it. It seemed like it was a part of him, bound to him for all eternity.

Of course he felt _pain_. 

That one was obvious. And nothing new. Physical. Or mental. He did not care. There was barely any difference anymore. The line was blurred. In most cases it was both anyway. In the end, it hurt anyway and who was he to care from which source it originated.

Oh and _fear_. 

The good old fear. 

The treacherous voice in his head. Asking the horrible what-if question. The worst-case scenario. Something entirely else to torture him. Of course, his brain always thought of what could go wrong first. He could not blame it. It was only a way to try and protect him, to spare him future pain, to give him a semblance of control over his own life when he had lost it long ago in reality.

_ Anger.  _

Oh. 

There it was. 

The emotion he had tried to repress so carefully for such a long time. Something he had kept hidden deep inside of him, all locked up and buried so deep it was a wonder it managed to get out. But he was angry, oh so very angry. At the entire world. For starting a useless war, for killing way too many young men who did not deserve their fate. He was angry at his commander for sending them to Dunkirk on that day. He was angry at the german soldiers who shot his plane down. He was also angry at Farrier. Of course, he was angry. He did not fly back. He got captured and left him all alone. So many years of suffering alone. And all of it because Farrier wanted to play the hero.

He was angry. But the person he hated the most in the haze of his anger was himself. His own stupidity of letting the enemy get the upper hand, of failing to control his plane and leaving Farrier alone in the air. Had he been there who knows perhaps they would have both made it back home. It seemed like in the end he was the one to blame for the situation he ended up in after all.

In the end there was _emptiness_. 

No more emotions. 

He had gone through all of them. 

There was no strength inside of him to feel anything anymore. He wasn’t even sure if he would feel again. Right now he didn’t even want to think about it. The emptiness was pleasant, the numb feeling dulling his senses. It felt oddly comforting, like a warm blanket of darkness, covering his soul protecting it from even more damage.

His tears had long dried, though he could still feel some residual wetness in the long strands of Farrier’s hair. It did not matter. It was not like the man would notice it anyway. He had not moved even once the entire time he had clutched him close and sobbed into his hair.

There had been no response. Farriers arms had continued to rest on his lap, limply, not even moving once during the whole time.

He pulled back and pressed a soft kiss to Farriers’ lips with a tiny flicker of hope that this might work. 

It did not. 

Of course, it did not. 

How utterly disappointing. 

It was not like his life was a fairy tale. How foolish of him to even have such thoughts. This was not the story of sleeping beauty where he was the prince and managed it to kiss awake his long-lost love and then they lived happily ever after. No, apparently he had not learned a thing. They were soldiers. There were no happy endings. Not for people like them.

As he left, he took the emptiness with him. 

A tiny seed planted deep inside his chest, many, many years ago, which had grown and grown. Slowly and carefully hidden, watered by every battle that would follow this fateful day on the channel. He had nourished it, and in reward, it had unleashed its anger at every enemy he happened to cross in the air, for the emptiness living inside of him blamed them for all that had happened. After all, had there been no war, they would have not been forced to fly to Dunkirk on that day. And he would have not lost Farrier in the air over that cursed beach. They were to blame. All of them.

And he would make them pay. For taking his love. For extinguishing the light of his life and giving him back this void. This shell of a man where he wasn’t sure if he should be thankful for it or if it was just more torture for him to endure.

Adding more kerosene to the fire of darkness burning inside him.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the first part of this fic and if you did I'm always happy to receive kudos or comments :D you can also hit me up on tumblr (@feedingmyinsomnia) i'm always open to messages and chatting to deal with that 2020 loneliness <3


End file.
